Screw Down So You Don't Screw Up
by theNEWanias
Summary: Ron feels stupid after botching things with his first guyonguy sexual encounters, so it's the twins to the rescue!...whether he wants to be rescued or not is almost debatable. Almost. Trincest: GWRWFW, and a little extra.
1. One

Disclaimer: As usual, I cannot take any credit for the characters I could never have created (damn it). The only thing I own is the plot, and I can hardly get away with that...

A/n: this is a one-shot because I need to distract myself from the writer's block I'm having on "Alone." I hope that if anyone who is following that story (thanx fer the reviews, by the way) is reading this little ficlet, they will appreciate it and that it will hold them over. Because you guys deserve the rest of that story, even though I can't provide right now. Thanx.

(Currently listening to "Good Day Sunshine" by the Beatles)

Screw Down So You Don't Screw Up

Ron sighed despondently, his back aching a little from lying on it for so long – it was about time he found a nicer bed, maybe. _I suck_. He thought. _At everything._ He added, just to be sure that he had it covered. _Maybe I'm not meant to have sex. Some people are meant to be good singers, some people are excellent at magic, and maybe I'm just meant to be total crap at sex._

This was not a cheerful thought. He'd already determined that he didn't like sex with girls as much – he enjoyed it, sure, but it was more like an elective: falling somewhere between Quidditch and Wizard's Chess. So eventually, coming to his senses he decided that he would try it out with guys. And he did. And he was _still_ awful. Then again, he'd only done it twice…but god, it was embarrassing!

These thoughts were all just starting to round themselves up for one last dejected trip down on his mental rollercoaster (which only seemed to be getting lower and fucking lower) when he started: _"creak_._"_ Ron sat up, suddenly _very_ alert despite the late (or was it early?) hour.

He looked around, swishing his head from side to side multiple times, searching for signs of an intruder. Nothing. After repeating this exercise a few more times, he lay slowly back down, not willing to relent in his vigilance just yet. But as he began contemplating his apparently talent-lacking fuck, his mind going in circles – which were becoming dizzier ten-fold every time he went around – he heard the door creak again.

He didn't sit up this time, but out of the corner of his eye, he searched from the doorframe to the very darkest corners of his dark attic room. And still…nothing. He sighed, half relieved, half disappointed: was it obvious, he wondered, just by his depression? Could his siblings possibly have guessed at his condition? _Eww_. He thought. _I don't want to think about that._

As the night (or was it morning? He just couldn't tell) wore on, he learned to ignore the new and sometimes annoying habit of all the creaking wood: the door, the floorboards, the window frame under the wind, his bed frame…wait. _My bed frame? Why_ –

"Hiya' Ron!" Two sets of big, beautiful blue eyes shined in front of him.

"AAHH!!" Ron, in a daring and rather endearing attempt at escape from this sudden infringement upon his personal space, wriggled backwards too rapidly, and banged his head on the headboard of his bead with a residual _"CRACK"_ that vibrated all the way down to his toes.

He blinked a few times.

"Excitable, our little brother." George drawled.

"Agreed." Fred sniffed.

"Wha – what are you…? Why are you…? How come –" but he never got a chance to finish his sentence.

"Was that you making all that sighing up here?" asked George.

"Yeah." Ron arched an eyebrow – the question oddly amused him.

"Oh." Fred relocated himself to sit on the edge of the squeaky bed. "Thought we heard your misery." He smirked.

"Oh shove off!" Ron turned his back on his older brother, facing the window like a rejected puppy…he even pouted a tiny bit.

"Well then, if you don't want our condolences –"

"And our _help_…." Both twins stood and made for the door. Ron couldn't see it, but as they were walking, George was counting down on his fingers, whispering to Fred: _"Three…two…one_ –_" _

"Wait!...I'm sorry." It sounded as though Ron was somewhere between incredibly unhappy at feeling the need to apologize, wanting company, and being extremely happy for the chance to talk with somebody – _anybody_.

The twins turned to face him, pulling serious, sullen faces. They were definitely laughing their asses off on the inside, though.

"I…" Ron faltered for a moment: he was seriously starting to lean toward resenting his apology to the twins. "I didn't mean to…offend you."

The serious faces broke, and the two of them burst into laughter. "Offend?" George chuckled.

"Perish the thought!" Fred feigned an air of illustriousness, waving his hand in a way that could easily have been considered dainty. Ron privately thought that Fred was one of the only guys he knew who wouldn't be gang-beaten for doing something like that.

"Look," continued George, "We heard about your little…ah…_mishap_." It wasn't so much a smirk on his face as a look of pity…and that just made Ron wish _sooooo_ much it was a smirk.

"Oh." He was more embarrassed than ever now. They knew. They – fucking – knew. "Oh." He said again, this time trying not to make it sound so forlorn. Maybe, if they thought it didn't bother him as much as it really did, they'd leave him alone about it.

"Oh?" Fred imitated mockingly…he just couldn't help himself.

"Fred, cut the crap." George elbowed him. "We came to help him, not make fun of him." Ron looked up.

"Um, excuse me but, _help_? I know I don't really need to ask, but should I be scared?"

"Why Ron, we're surprised! Don't you want to know how to go about it the right way next time?" Fred looked rather menacing, standing there in his doorframe, illuminated from behind by the dim hall light…slowly licking his bottom lip. _Menacing indeed_.

"You're too much of a catch to suck at sex little brother." George jumped on the train of thought, and suddenly, Ron doubted that a train of thought was the only thing he wanted to jump on.

_Oh boy, here it comes_, he thought.

He couldn't help but feel intimidated as the twins began advancing on him as they explained. Somehow, it became virtually impossible to concentrate on – or even _understand_ – what they were telling him. He just kept backing up, until finally…

_"THUD"_ he hit the thread-bear rug that stood between his bed and the floor.

"Shhh!" they hushed him in unison; the effect was twice as reprimanding.

"You'll wake the whole house Ron, and then we'll never get to it."

"G-get to what, now?" Ron felt very, very scared.

"Haven't we just explained to you?" Fred pulled Ron back up onto the bed, refusing to let go of his hands once he was up. Ron pulled and pulled and pulled, but try as he might, Fred refused to let go. And then, there was wet. Fred had leaned in so quickly, that Ron hadn't had time to react. He just sat there, letting Fred lick his bottom lip as he attempted to kiss his younger brother. "Ah, that's your first issue, Ronnie: you can't kiss worth shit." Fred looked mildly amused; his younger brother bemused.

Then, the aftershock wore off: "HEY!" Ron twisted around, crossed his arms, and spat, "It wasn't exactly something I was expecting! You _are_ my brother!"

"Oh, and that's such a problem!" Fred turned to George and said, "We don't let it get in the way, do we Georgie?"

Ron turned around, his mouth hanging open slightly, his clear blue eyes widening; the ginger hairs on the back of his neck stood on end: Fred and George were entangled in a passionate – yet not sloppy – kiss, all tongues and tangled limbs, and a soft sigh just for good measure on Fred's part. "God Fred, you're the bitch, aren't you." It was more of a statement than anything.

"You're smarter than you look, Ronniekins!" said George brightly, but Fred scowled.

"Hey now! Not all the time!" He looked a little annoyed, somewhat resembling Ginny when she missed out on some inside joke…or perhaps the always quickly-disappearing lunch.

"Totally beside the point, love." George let go of his twin, and meandered over to Ron, who was still a little shocked…not to mention – as much as he didn't want to admit it – more than a little turned-on. Taking advantage of Ron's state of amazement, he gently lay himself down upon Ron's lap, stretching leisurely as though this were as normal as going to sleep in his own bed. "Ron, what we've been trying to say is –"

"We want to help you –"

"Get better at sex, so that the next time –"

"You don't botch it –"

"So –"

"Incredibly –"

"Bad."

Now Ron began to lose track of one or the other. Fred was leaning on his shoulder.

"We think that it's in _everybody's_ best interest –"

"For us to lead you onward into a world of better fucks –"

"Because honestly –"

_"Who's better_?" They finished together.

At this point, Ron was dizzy from their back-and-forth banter, and to add to this burgeoning vertigo, he couldn't help but notice the ever-growing bulge in his tartan pajama pants. _Traitor_, he thought.

"Starting to get used to us?" George asked, and Ron's attention was snapped back out of its hiding, down to the hand that was inching upward to his chest, back down over his navel, and then…

"Whoa! Hey…d-don't you th-think this is taking it a bit…_oh_…" That had been an involuntary sigh, "…fast?" he gulped, barely believing in his own words of warning.

George stopped. Fred leaned away from him. And then he…he…

_Aw fuck it_. And he took George's hand, placing it on his clothed cock, simultaneously leaning into Fred's chest.

"That's more like it." Fred whispered into his ear. Ron flinched a little: he hadn't known just where Fred had been exactly.

"Careful now," George warned his twin, squeezing lightly, a twitch coming from somewhere underneath the wave of soft fabric. "We don't wanna' scare him off now." He smiled.

"At least I'm not all talk…" Fred muttered under his breath, just loud enough to send Ron into a momentary giggle fit – that is until Fred decided it wasn't meant to be funny anymore. He let both arms come forward, crossing at Ron's chest, a single finger coming up to trace over his collarbone. The other swept low beneath his bellybutton to softly caress the skin there. Ron – despite all his misgivings about this thing – allowed himself to be lulled.

And then he jumped: cold – no, hot – no, kind of hot and wet…or maybe that was just…no, but it was still dry and, "What the –"

George waved at Ron from between his knees, who gasped a little at seeing himself exposed so unexpectedly. George's breath was warm and damp, but the surrounding air was cool and dry. That explained the sensory confusion. George licked up and down Ron's length slowly, upholding eye-contact the entire time.

Fred watched tentatively from his little perch behind Ron, and then said, "Wait." Ron's whimpers went overlooked for the moment; he didn't like this sudden withdrawal of attention. "Let's not rush things, Georgie." He got up on his knees behind Ron so that he could lean down a little more, uncrossing his arms and using both hands to cradle Ron's cock. George watched the glint of amusement in his twin's eyes at Ron's almost-agonized moan.

Ron was a moaning, groaning, sighing wreck: he cuddled back into Fred's chest, allowing himself to be given what he wanted, when George's voice registered in his ears.

"Lesson two: don't let yourself fall into a pattern of being the receiver." He sounded surprisingly serious, as though watching this wasn't affecting him. "Kiss him or something. Do stuff back."

Ron tried to take this into account; it seemed like a bit of a pain though, having to remember to do something back _while_ you're having something done to you. Nonetheless, he made an attempt at a wet kiss to Fred's chest…a little slipshod perhaps, but it still had a good effect: Fred's throat hummed above him as he purred his contentment.

"Good." Said George in an approving way, as though he had just taught Ron how to manage his own laundry.

Ron continued to make advances of varying degrees to his brother, and it became easier with every ministration applied. He noticed that the more Fred gave him, the more he seemed to give Fred, which resulted in a very nice continuous circle. Then, a particularly long, slow, and constricting pump made him bite down on Fred's skin.

Fred made a short noise of pain, which melted into a moan of surprised pleasure. "I think he has kinks, George."

"That gives us something to work with." The comment reminded Ron strangely of someone selling property, as though he was a piece of work rather than a person. It should have offended him. Normally it would have. But instead, he laughed.

His laugh was drowned however, by a mouth. He couldn't tell for a moment whose it was, but he figured out quick enough that it was Fred. Meanwhile, George took it as his turn: he laved at the head of Ron's cock pointedly, making Ron shudder and feed Fred more moans.

Ron –expecting it this time – kissed back. His tongue slid wetly into Fred's mouth, fitting nicely. Not perfectly, but nicely. Ron assumed that perfect was reserved for George. Out of sheer nerve and impulse, he gently bit Fred's lip, sucking on it a little, eliciting a little grunt from the older redhead. "Ok," Fred broke the kiss, "So maybe you're not _that_ bad at kissing." He laughed when Ron just threw himself back into the kiss.

A few lazy moments went by: Ron making out with Fred, George playing with Ron's cock, licking, sucking, and even biting ever-so-gently. And then, a thought came to Ron. _Everyone's getting some…except George. _"George," he was about to expand on this thought.

"Hmm?" came from around his cock. The vibrations made him stutter before he could continue.

"You should move. Fred, let me lie down. George, sit closer to me on the bed." Ron indicated the spot he had in mind. It was low enough for George to still blow him, but close enough so that Ron could…well, he'd know when it happened.

George sat on the bed now, leaning down impossibly to suck harder on the throbbing member that was Ron's. Then there was a hand inching lower and lower around his waistband. George obliged, pulling the pants down so that they rested easily around his thighs. Ron began mimicking all that he could remember from the hand-job. It wasn't bad either, so had thought George.

"You're getting better." George breathed around him. Vibration and hot breath: that had been the catalyst needed to send Ron spinning into a loud, messy orgasm. George, taken by surprise by the abrupt release, instinctively moved his head back, but kept his mouth open to catch the cum.

"Sorry, that wasn't…uh, I didn't mean to do that."

Fred and George laughed heartily. "It's a complement." They chorused.

"Yeah." Ron agreed, "a messy one."

A few moments went by, and the twins silently concluded that they had put Ron through enough schooling for one night. They'd go back to their own room and…finish things off.

Ron was already half-way asleep when they each said goodnight to him, immersed in beginnings of dreams that would take him farther than this….

An hour or two later…

Ron awoke because of a rather loud clattering somewhere down the stairs. He looked up: his door was shut, and no twins were to be found. He shook his head slowly, yawned, and lowered his head back down onto his pillow…"_Fred! Right – fucking – there!_" Ron blinked.

"Who's the bitch now?" sarcasm. Another blink.

A looooooooooong moan that quite possibly had Fred's name sandwiched in it _somewhere_. And then nothing.

"Oi." Ron whispered softly into the dark, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Roll the Credits


	2. Two

Disclaimer: Ha, this is about as real as my "good" math grade -- if you people knew me, you'd know that translates to "yeah this thing is so fake."

A/n: ok, so I know I orignially announced this thing was a oneshot and all, but it's back by popular demand (tragiclove), so I'm holding my obligations as a writer to please the public . This chapter goes out to my friend Alle who broke her wrists...love ya, girl.

Chapter II -- I Couldn't Make Up My Mind: Pleasure, Pressure, or Pain?

The sun flitted in and out of the cracks in the curtains the same way a stream flitted between rocks and rushes: serene and yet somehow persistent of some unseen course.

Ron rolled over a few times, avoiding wakefulness. He didn't want to wake up because for one thing, he was _very_ tired. For another, he didn't want to think about last night. And it wasn't because he was disgusted or anything…it was because he didn't want to think that he cared.

Eventually though, the inevitable prevailed and Ron sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had this single, sinking feeling – it kind of felt the same way he imagined loneliness might feel. Looking around, he became annoyed the way he did every morning: despite having spent a good thirty seconds to rub his eyes clear, albeit a little lethargically, everything was still blurry in the fashion of sleep.

He felt that today, maybe he could just waste away in bed since last night was on his mind. He lay back down, closing his eyes and ventured into the back of his mind, attempting to escape. He tried to ignore his feelings, _Because my feelings mean nothing_, he thought to himself.

He was almost asleep again, when there was a very loud banging on his door. It was Ginny. "Ron! Ron, Mum wants you downstairs for breakfast with the rest of us!"

Ron groaned. "Tell her I'll eat later."

"She said you won't get food later if you miss out on breakfast." He could just hear Ginny's evil grin through the door. And then he heard her footsteps. That was the end of _that_ conversation.

* * *

_ Do you wonder if maybe…we caught him a little too off guard_? 

_I doubt it. It's not like with you and me: I still see you lying next to me even when I go to sleep_. Twin-a-kinesis was always a plus.

George had to wipe his blush away as he heard Ron enter the kitchen. Ron looked awful, but in a cute sort of way: his red hair was sticking out in all different directions and his eyes were still half closed, like maybe he hadn't quite woken up yet.

Fred answered before George had even finished nudging him under the table, _I know_. He looked at their little brother with more interest than he had in a long time. He was enjoying the slouchy posture and clumsy way Ron handled his food and silverware. Fred, being the slightly more extroverted twin, asked, "Sleep well Ron?"

"If that's what you want to call it." Fred was surprised by the wink Ron sent him – it was most…un-Ron-like.

Fred and George chuckled together. "Good dreams?"

"Mm hmm." Ron began chasing bits of bacon around his plate with his fork.

"What about?"

Ron looked up at the two of them with a malicious look in his eyes – he wasn't exactly in the mood for mincing words with the twins. _It's too early for this_. Then an idea came to him: "Breakfast."

"What?" George asked what Fred had thought.

"Breakfast. I dreamed about breakfast." He smiled slyly, and then George watched his little brother pick out a sausage and stare at it, slowly turning the fork around to display it before eating it.

"Really now?"

"Yup." He said matter-of-factly with his mouth full of sausage. George silently hated his brother's hidden quick wit.

Fred watched with only slight interest. "Be careful Ron…you wouldn't want to have too many dreams as such…might give you a stomach ache…or worse, a _headache_."

The sensation that succeeded Fred's remark was the cause of much misery for Ron: an immediate ache in his cock shocked him awake. He raced out of the kitchen without delay to the bathroom with the excuse of feeling sick wafting far behind him.

* * *

Ron was snoozing in the sunshine, looking very much like a ginger colored cat as he was stretched languidly across the warm wooden planks of the dock. He was just awake enough to be faintly aware of the sounds of splashing and shouting, but it all seemed as though it were coming from a distance. _A very far away distance_, he hoped to himself. 

In his dream, it began to sprinkle a little…no wait, it really was sprinkling! Ron cracked an eye open towards the sky: it was as blue as it ever had been. Then the clear droplets of water came down on him again, this time chilling his face.

He looked over in the direction of the assault to see Fred and George smiling, immersed in pond water up to their identical waists. He blinked, squinting in the sun and said, "What?"

"Come and play, Ronnie!" Fred splashed him again.

"No…." He turned over again. He hadn't been asleep very long before he felt two very strong pairs of arms rolling him across the dock and into the pond. He came up spluttering for breath, the cold as much of a shock to him as his strange mixture of anger and pleasure as a reaction to the twins' antics. "Ugh!" he was dripping wet and entirely awake.

"Play!" George splashed him this time.

Before he could control himself, Ron pushed an immense amount of water in their general direction as a sort of intended revenge. It totally backfired. He ended up being clothes-lined by the two, and they all went tumbling into the water together, trying desperately to stop laughing so they could hold their breath.

When they all came back up for breath, Ron launched himself at the twins and they laughed as he pushed them down. A loud splash reached the dock, stealing away all of its former warmth and dryness. Ron didn't care anymore though, because he was too busy having fun.

As they all sat back with their arms around the bank of the pond as well as each other, Ron leaned into the wet heat of one of the twin's ears and asked in a voice barely more than a whisper, "Ok, you've had your fun…but what about how _I_ might want to 'play'?"

Fred looked thoughtful while George shivered. "To be honest, we hadn't really thought about that. But it's an idea."

"Please?" Ron removed himself from the grassy bank and into Fred's lap. Fred failed at composure as Ron began sucking on his neck – gently, and certainly not enough to result in a bruise.

He groaned but pushed Ron out of his lap, "Not here. Inside. _Now_."

The three boys rushed into the house and up the stairs. George locked the door once they were all in the twins' room. It was a funny feeling for Ron, because it seemed almost dangerous – like this was new territory – to be in their room, and especially for this purpose.

But of course, that feeling wouldn't drag him down for long…or at least, it wasn't the _only thing_ dragging him down: he found himself sandwiched between his two brothers as they made out above him. It gave him this strange feeling of mixed jealousy and intrigue.

"Hey!" He pouted.

They both looked down at him with identical sinful smiles on their faces. "Aw, is Ronnie feeling unloved?" George couldn't help himself at this point – the pout was just too much.

"Don't you worry little brother, we love you very much, don't we Georgie?" Fred grinned.

George nodded and they both advanced on Ron. The sudden and rather unexpected attention made Ron feel overwhelmed as there were two of them and only one of him. This wasn't half the shock as their actions were though: before he could have figured out whether up was down or vice versa, Ron was naked, his top half hanging off the edge of the bed, and the next thing he knew, there was Fred's (or was it George's?) face mere inches away from his own.

"Hiya Ronnie! How are ya'?" There was such an absurd cheeriness to this twin's voice that it _had_ to be Fred.

"Um…"

"Hard might be the word you're looking for, little brother." George's voice came drifting over Ron's stretched-out stomach and the twin that covered it.

Ron didn't say anything…just blinked. He was fucking it up again; he could feel his muscles freezing in place…. "_Oh, do that AGAIN!!_" Ron shifted his hips and wiggled underneath Fred when he felt a very wet and very hard suck on his dick. He writhed at the feeling of George, who was nodding his head in his silent agreement.

George did it again, and again, and again…but then he stopped. Ron whined, and the twins were both thinking the same thing: _he's so disgustingly cute_. Ron was beginning to feel sulky as he watched Fred turn away from him…but that feeling was banished from his mind, because a totally new sensation filled him from the spine outward: _two_ sets of lips; _two_ tongues; _two_ identical breathing patterns – Fred and George were making out _around_ Ron's cock.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to thrust. He had no idea whose name to call out, and inevitably, he didn't know how he should be reacting. Not that he had time to react, because by the time he'd decided to do something, he was cumming. _How the fuck did they do that_? He thought. He was amazed at his own ability to still make coherent sentences, even within his own mind.

George licked his lips, and when he had finished, Ron wasn't surprised in the slightest to see Fred kiss him after saying, "Missed a spot."

"You're just selfish, that's what it is." George teased.

"I am not!" Fred sounded offended and Ron wanted to jump him for it. "If I really were selfish, I'd have Ron sucking _me_ off!" And then, from his rather disabled position on the bed, Ron saw Fred's eyes light up. "Say, now _there's _an idea!"

"Um, might I remind you –"

"Oh stop worrying Ronnie! Georgie and I can teach you how to do it the right way." Ron leaned in with the pull of the twins' hands as they pulled him up and back onto the bed.

He suddenly felt exposed, now that he wasn't so distracted. It wouldn't have been so bad if he weren't the only one who was naked. The twins must have somehow picked up on this feeling because without word or reason they began to strip.

Ron had seen his brothers naked before, but somehow the intent of their undress seemed to make it a lot filthier. He blushed when he saw pants turn into puddles of fabric on the floor. He half expected them to just start making out again; he was mistaken.

George walked around the bed and came to sit on the edge while Fred walked up to Ron and kissed him: it was a deep kiss, but there was something else in there somewhere…Ron felt stupid when he caught himself hoping that it was _love_. Fred pulled away, making sure to suck on Ron's bottom lip as though there was something awfully sweet coating it. Ron moaned into thin air with the disappearance of the soft touch.

There was a twinkle in Fred's eyes that would usually have struck a chord of nervousness in Ron, but somehow, this didn't seem like _that_ twinkle. Well, not entirely at any rate. He stretched himself out on his back and fixed Ron with this…this _look_: it was entirely self-centered and yet, inviting. It said, "I'll play you like the fool that you are" as well as screaming, "Take me please!"

Ron was a little scared when Fred said, "I'll let you."

"Let…let me what?" he gulped.

Fred reached up and pulled Ron down onto him and whispered into his ear, "Take me." the hot breath ghosted Ron's sensitive skin.

"Hey!" Suddenly, Ron was being pulled back out of his moment with Fred by sturdy arms, and the echo of Fred's words was drowned by a deep rumble. "Hold on there, we still haven't gotten past that first fantasy, Fred." Fred cocked his head to one side, arching his neck a little and spreading his legs apart to give both Ron and George a very nice display of what needed attention.

"I'm eighteen, George – I like instant gratification." Fred crossed his arms.

"Well that's a little too instant. Here," he pushed Ron forward a bit, and he was barely able to catch himself, "start out small."

Fred pulled Ron down to him in what would have been a kiss, save for the fact that he purposely directed Ron's head sideways so that he could speak into Ron's ear, "Blow me." It was a command and Ron knew it.

Ron gave a shuddering "Mm hmm" before sliding down to Fred's hips. Ok. On the one hand, Ron _really_ wanted to suck Fred off. But on the other hand, he was afraid he'd choke...literally. Fortunately – as these things tend to work themselves out – Ron's pleasure was overriding his anxiety, and he began by kissing the length of his brother's throbbing cock. _"Start out small"_ he remembered.

Fred moaned under just that simple touch of lips to skin. Ron wasn't sure if he was putting on a show (it _was _Fred) or if this was a genuine reaction, but it didn't matter; either way it was boosting Ron's confidence.

In response, Ron stuck out the length of his tongue and licked the cock in front of him from base to head, sending Fred into a silent but writhing fit. "Oh Ronnie, do that again!" Ron did it again, this time in the opposite direction – from head to base. He continued this little action a few times more, but he could tell that Fred was getting bored. "More…." Fred all but begged, but Ron had an epiphany.

He shook his head in a silent 'no.'

Fred's blue eyes widened comically and Ron had to try very hard not to laugh. "Why not?"

"I don't know what I'm doing." Ron's smile was fueling a surprisingly good imitation of an apologetic sulk.

Fred sat up. "Oh for heaven's sake, come here," Fred pulled Ron toward his lap and pushed his head down. Ron wasn't exactly ready for it, but he followed the trend. He parted his lips just wide enough to slide them down his brother's cock, discovering that he couldn't get all of it in just yet. Fred lifted one of Ron's hands to the bottom of his member, and taking the hint Ron squeezed as he sucked. Fred moaned above him.

This went on uninterrupted until George decided it was time for _him_ to have a little fun too. Ron gasped and sucked exceptionally hard, causing Fred to sigh heavily. After his monster exhalation, Fred said, "Thanks for that, George." This was because George had edged towards Ron and nudged two wet fingers against his entrance.

Ron sucked harder and harder, providing stroking motions with his tongue, and then when he could will himself to do it, he deep-throated Fred. Fred threw his head back in pure ecstasy, mewling like a cat in heat, possibly calling out Ron's name in the process, because with one last amazing contraction of Ron's throat muscles, he was cumming. Ron almost gagged, but composed himself enough to swallow most of the sweet, sticky stuff.

In the midst of all that, Ron had almost completely forgotten George's fingers. George was kind enough to remind him. "Ready for more?" he asked in a low whisper that sent shivers up Ron's spine, making every single strand of beautiful red hair stand on end.

Ron nodded, unable to come up with words.

"Good, 'cause I wasn't gonna' wait anyway." And with that last remark, he pushed another finger in, making Ron squirm. It felt weird. Not good weird. Not bad weird either. It wasn't great, but it wasn't that bad exactly. _Wow I need a better vocabulary_.

Not that he had much time to ruminate over his utter lack of sexual terminology because George was slipping in a fourth finger, and Ron was beginning to get past "weird" and "not bad exactly" into a whole new dimension of happy. George had brushed up against some sort of magic spot or something because Ron felt a very soft tingle jump up and down his spine. He wondered what it would be like if his brother had actually hit it. Hard. With something other than his fingers.

Ron bucked backward involuntarily in an attempt to push George's fingers in further. "What is it Ron?" George sounded faintly mocking. He began to slowly pull out.

"Mm mm! More, please George, _more_!" Ron knew he was whining and he didn't care.

"If you insist." Ron whimpered again; without those fingers he felt empty. He knew something better was going in though, so he waited without complaint. When nothing happened, he turned and looked at George, who was sitting propped up against the headboard.

"Why are you sitting?" Ron shivered – more out of fear than arousal – when he heard Fred and George laugh together; the identical pitches were eerie.

He felt Fred's foot on the small of his back as it shoved him gently forward. "He wants you to ride him." Was the response he got…from Fred. Ron felt very awkward now, with Fred lounging behind him and George before.

Suddenly, this little afternoon treat had turned itself into a mess of emotions…for Ron anyway. _They're your brothers…get over it_. He thought to himself, and talked himself out of feeling. He pulled himself into George's lap and as soon as he had thrown his arms around his brother's neck, he felt something wet. _Lube_, he realized. He hesitated for a moment, deciding to catch George's lips in a kiss before sliding downward.

Ron winced and bit George's lip in pain. George pulled away, "Ron, slowly."

Ron nodded and remained stationary for a moment. Then, when he could bring himself to stand the pain, he used his knees to lift up, sending more sparks of pain throughout his body. He didn't want to show it, but he could feel tears beginning to fill his eyes. He gasped a little when he felt a soft touch; hands cupping his face, brushing the hair out of his eyes and the pain from his body.

"Ron."

Ron sniffed.

"I can –"

"No." Ron shook his head and held a little tighter, "No I can do it."

"You sure? Ron, look at me." One pair of blue eyes met another. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He breathed, sinking down again, moaning this time somewhere between pain and pleasure. It was getting better, but it was a slow transition. And then there were hands on his shoulders, tenderly massaging down between his shoulder blades and soothing the muscles near his lower back. "Fred?"

"Shhh. It's ok, baby brother. You'll be fine." He kissed Ron softly behind the ear, ginger hair tickling his nose.

Somehow, this made Ron feel safe, and soon enough the pain was giving way fully to bliss. He found himself clinging tighter and tighter to George, who was beginning to buck his hips now that Ron was comfortable with the whole situation.

"Oh Ron, come on baby…" George's head was thrown back, bumping against the headboard. Ron would have laughed at the sight but he just didn't have room for humor at the moment.

Ron – having no idea what it was George wanted exactly – went with his instincts and crushed his lips against his brother's. It was a passionate kiss, with just a hint of violence: the occasional clash of teeth and by the end of it, Ron's lip was bleeding a slightly.

Fred entertained himself by stroking up Ron's backbone with a single fingertip, allowing only his nail to touch skin. Ron moaned out in tortured ecstasy. Smirking like it was going out of style, Fred leaned in and licked the path his finger had made, but he didn't stop there. He nipped at the back of Ron's neck, then stretched his neck out so he could place a soft, wet kiss on his little brother's clavicle.

It was this tiny little action that when mixed with the thrusting of George's hips became the recipe for Ron's orgasm…but there was one thing missing, and George filled in the blank: even in his state of near-deliriousness, he was able to reach a hand down between himself and Ron to grab Ron's cock, making sure to make a long, griping, pull at it from base to tip, sending Ron into a spasm of heat.

Watching Ron shut his eyes and open his mouth to yell _his_ name was enough to make George cum – he'd been feeling that uncomfortable and yet somehow awesome pool of heat gather in his stomach for quite some time now. It finally pushed downward and he came inside Ron, who groaned over George's shoulder in response.

When Ron finally moved off of George, it took him approximately two minutes to fall asleep.

end of chapter...hope you like! reviews are love.


	3. Three

Disclaimer: I own no characters, and I can barely claim to owning this plot because I'm almost certain that someone with a lot more creativity than myself has written this. That can be hard to avoid with so many people in the world...

A/n: Sorry about how short this chapter is -- I just thought that the end to this one was a better place to stop than to continue the chapter. It seemed like a sweet little intimate moment of shortness. Sorry if I'm not making sense. Anyway, onward!

It was probably somewhere around six thirty when Ron awoke, the dusty light of sunset raining down upon the Burrow. He had to admit that it wasn't exactly comforting waking up alone. _But they probably need some alone time_, he thought.

He managed to slide both legs over the edge of the bed, standing slowly. He found his clothes and threw them on without much regard for neatness. Walking into the kitchen, he saw his mother sitting at the table talking with Ginny about something or other. A plate of food drifted his way – "There's a warmth charm on it."

Ron took the food without a word, and decided to sit on the front step while he ate. He devoured his dinner while reflecting on these strange feelings: he wasn't sure what was coming next, but he really didn't mind. He knew that to be this comfortable with someone, it took a certain amount of either effort or love. He wasn't sure yet which one of these he was experiencing.

After taking his plate in and telling his mother that he was going to take a walk, he left through the front door, habitually forgetting to close it all the way. He wandered aimlessly down the dirt road that lead from Burrow to the property beyond. After a fifteen minute walk, he came to the familiar fork in the road. Right led to Ottery St. Catchpole, to the left – the apple orchard. He went left; something was pulling him in that direction. He hardly even noticed the brush of footprints underneath his feet – fresh imprints. Fresh, identical pairs of footprints.

He arrived in the orchard, and inhaled deeply the scent of apple blossoms – in a few months, they could have as many apples as they wanted. He picked his way through the thick mess of trees and wild growth, eventually finding a tree to sit beneath. He was nodding off for a bit when he heard laughter. It was gentle though, and somehow, he found it almost like a lullaby. He peered through the leaves and brush in the direction of the laughter. He smiled at what he saw:

Fred was sitting between George's legs, and George was cuddling him. It was completely innocent and affectionate. George nuzzled Fred's shock of scarlet hair, placing a kiss somewhere on his scalp. Fred came about as close to a giggle as he could when being serious, and squirmed so that he was closer to George.

As happy as it made Ron to see his brothers this full of joy, he couldn't help the little pang of jealousy inside his stomach. And besides, it was making his heart sting. Deciding that he couldn't watch this for too much longer, he discreetly left the orchard, walking slowly and carelessly home.

"Have a good walk, Ron?" His mother asked. Her old eyes sparkled with something within the proximity of knowing.

"Yeah." He was walking up the first three steps, but then he turned around. "Mum?"

"Yes dear?" the sparkle was gone, almost as if it had never been there at all.

"Thanks for the dinner."

"You're welcome, Ronald."

.:end of chapter:.

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